


Ficlet

by fictorium



Category: Scott & Bailey
Genre: F/F, mentions of Rachel/Will
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-29
Updated: 2015-07-29
Packaged: 2018-04-11 23:10:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4456091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictorium/pseuds/fictorium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the leaving do in the s4 finale. A chat. A fag. A suggestion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ficlet

“Will’s asking after you.”

Rachel doesn’t turn, she knows better than that. Gill’s had a few, but her diction is razor sharp as ever. It’s still reflex to expect a bollocking, despite the fact that Gill stopped being her boss at least four hours ago.

“Don’t you start,” Rachel grumbles in response, taking a long drag of the last Silk Cut from the pack she conned out of the ancient fag machine in back. “I’ve had Janet playing Cilla out here for the past ten minutes. Shouldn’t you be on the karaoke by now, boss?”

“Is it the karaoke you’re hiding from? Or Will? Or…”

“You?” Rachel finishes, because she’s well into her second bottle of Shiraz and caution was never her strong suit. “I’m pretty sure that wouldn’t be appropriate. It’s your party.”  
“And I’ll get pissed if I want to?” Gill steps out of the shadows under the makeshift porch, taking up position right by Rachel’s elbow. “It’s not about appropriate anymore, is it? You didn’t even need to call me ‘boss’ just then.”

“Habit.”

“Just like them,” Gill nods to the half-smoked ciggy. “Got another? You can call it my leaving present.”

“Don’t… This is my last one.”

“Right.” Gill plucks it from Rachel’s trembling fingers and takes a long drag. With her free hand, she clasps Rachel’s now empty fingers. It’s comforting, after a fashion. The closest Godzilla gets to hugging it better, at least in an official capacity. “D’you think anyone thought anything back there?”

“What about?” Rachel fakes ignorance, but she knows. She felt her own face flush the minute Julie Dodson made her little announcement. Her face must have been glowing like Blackpool illuminations, and they’d better hope everyone else was too far pissed to notice. The rowdy cheering from inside suggests they are.

“If you can’t work out what I mean, Sherlock, you’re more wrecked than I am.”

“Did you mean what you said?”

“About being proud? Or about how wrecked you must be?”

Rachel stares at her, considers the options. “If anyone remembers, and that’s a long shot at the best of times with our brain trust, then I think it would be written off as an old friend getting a quick gag in to get a laugh. In my professional opinion, ma’am.” Rachel’s proud that she only slurs on professional. It’s hard enough saying that before she’s been on the bottle.

“Oh, so you’re professional now?”

“Cheap shot.”

“The reason I came out here wasn’t to tell you Will was looking for you, kid.”

“I know.” There’s boy racers streaking down the road on the other side of the trees from them, engines roaring into a whine as second-hand Vauxhalls with tricked-out engines and unnecessary spoilers are pushed to the max. Do these pricks with their cheap pills and stiff baseball caps know they’ve picked an unofficial race track next to a pub full of coppers? Or are they honestly cocky enough not to care. The smell of petrol and burnt rubber breaks through the last of the cigarette smoke, and Rachel inhales deeper than she meant to. “You came out to ask if I was coming home with you instead.”

“Sammy’s at Orla’s. Not that it matters, of course it doesn’t, but in case you were grasping for excuses. You can always say no, Rachel.”

“I don’t want to say no. Never have, when it comes to you.”

“Don’t get sentimental. I’m retiring, not dying.”

“Happen it’s much the same thing, if you’re not careful.”

“Anyway. There’ll be a taxi out front in five. You do what you want.” Gill squints at her watch, the same expression Rachel’s seen a hundred and more times at a briefing. It hits her, suddenly, that come clocking on this Monday, she won’t ever see it at the station again. She swallows a gasp, that might have been the start of a sob, and grabs clumsily at Gill’s elbow.

“Wait for me,” Rachel pleads. “I’ve just got to say goodbye to Janet.”

“Right.” Gill tries not to smile, she really does, but Rachel knows what that twitch of her lips will give way to. “Out front in five. Try not to keep me waiting, eh?”

With that she’s gone, and Rachel wishes she had another to smoke. Instead she lets Gill slip around the path leading to the front of the pub, and forces herself to pull the glass door open and let the din overwhelm her for a second. Janet’s tucked in a quiet corner with Chris, and Rachel has no intention of interrupting. A text later will do her, anyway, wondering if Rachel’s gotten home, or somewhere else, without jeopardising her job or her safety.

It’s Will she has to say goodbye to, and it isn’t hard to pick him out in the crowd. She can feel the restlessness of him searching for her, the relief in his eyes when she offers him an awkward half-wave. He’s great, really he is, and if she had half an ounce of sense Rachel would throw her lot in with Will and tell the busybodies to go fuck themselves. Unfortunately for DS Pemberton (and perhaps, fortunately for former DCI Murray) Rachel Bailey doesn’t have even that half ounce of sense, even now. She sinks the last mouthful of red as he approaches, so it’s not just the taste of bad news on her tongue when she greets him.

Four minutes, thirty-seven seconds and two stumbles on the crumbling tarmac later, Rachel yanks open the back door of the taxi idling in the car park.

“Not too late am I?” She asks, sliding into the backseat anyway.

Gill’s hand on her thigh and a barked instruction to the cabbie is all the response either one of them needs.

“Did you really think we’d end up like this?” Rachel leans in to whisper, as they pull out onto that road that doubles as Oldham’s answer to Silverstone. “Even you couldn’t have seen this coming, could ya?”

“Shut up,” Gill warns, but that smile is threatening again. “I see everything, remember?”


End file.
